Sessions
by TheCorviter
Summary: Erik winds up in Gotham and visits the local psychiatrist.


Dr. Jonathan Crane walked briskly down the hall towards his office. He had a meeting later today to evaluate a new patient. Arriving at his door he walked in and started rummaging through his files. "Erik... where are you? Edwards... Edmund... Eponie... ah, Erik patient number 403" he exclaimed brightly pulling the file. Settling the folder on his desk, Dr. Crane took off his glasses and started examining its contents. "Lived in Paris for 36 years... helped build the Opera Populare... very knowledgeable in the arts, especially music. Hmm, doesn't seem insane so far."

He skimmed the document until he reached the bottom of the page. "Oh, here it is: 'suspected in the murder of two men- Messier Joseph Buquet and Senior Ubaldo Piangi. Considered highly dangerous when provoked. Also answers to the names The Phantom, O.G., or Angel of Music.' Well, Jonathan, when you ask for insane you get insane. I wonder what O.G. stands for. Outraged Genius?" He glanced at the clock. It was five till three. "Well," he said standing up, stretching and replacing his glasses, "time to meet Mr. Phantom."

The first thing Jonathan Crane noticed when he stepped into the evaluation room was that it was dark. Very dark, except for his solitary desk lamp. He reached for the light switch but was startled by a soft but firm voice. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Monsieur. I don't like the light." Dr. Crane blinked a few times trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dimness. He soon was able to make out a showdowy figure sitting on the couch against the far wall. _Phantom indeed_ he thought.

Clearing his throat and pasting a kindly smile on his lips, he stepped fully inside and shut the door. "Of course Erik whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I would like to have the shade raised just a little bit so I can see enough to make notes." After seeing what appeared to be a nod from the man sitting on the couch. Jonathan raised the shade a few inches. Natural light softly entered the room to the point where he could see his own feet again. Unaware he was holding his own breath, he let it out in a gentle sigh. _Relax Jonathan, he might be the one you've been looking for, a genius who just happens to be a kiler._

Jonathan (Crane) strode over to his forest green wingback chair and sat with a notebook in hand prepared to take notes. After writing 'Erik #403 Evaluational Session' on the top he lifted his head to see his patient clearly for the first time. If it wasn't for years of practice masking his feelings in front of school yard bullies Dr. Crane would have gasped in shock. Erik was sitting in full evening attire complete with black cape and fedora hat. The right side of the hat was pulled low over his face which seemed too pale and smooth to be part of his face at all. It was a mask. Well, part of a mask anyhow, what was covering _a deformity. He must be deformed _Dr. Crane concluded.

Realizing he was staring Dr. Crane, cleared his throat and offered his hand to Erik. With a warm smile on his lips he introduced himself. "I'm Dr. Jonathan Crane, head psychiatrist to Arkham Asylum. I'm just here to ask a few questions. I remind you that whatever you say will be kept highly confidential unless you intend to pose threat to yourself or others. Do you understand?"

Erik leaned forward and shook the proffered hand. "Yes, I do."

"Good. Now question number one. What brings you in to see us today?"

"Well, that's where I seem to get a little foggy. I remember falling asleep trying not to think about Her and the next thing I know I'm being nudged awake by a police officer and escorted here. The officer had said that I was ranting in my sleep about notes, impertinent managers, ballet rats, and most of all Her."

"Who is 'Her'?"

"Christine" Erik said sadly.

Dr. Crane having written a whole page of notes looked up. "Mother?"

"No."

"Sister?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

"No, yes... oh, I don't know." He wiped a hand across his face. "I mean I was hoping to marry her one day. It was so simple in the beginning. I was her teacher- her Angel of Music. Not the disgusting creature I am. She thought I was something so beautiful so... so... good that I latched onto that. You don't know doctor, how wonderful it was to be thought of as something other than a monster."

"Her Angel of Music. What do you mean? Surely she would have known that you-"

"She thought I was the spirit of her dead father. She didn't see me. I taught her how to sing from behind her dressing room mirror."

Not quite understanding this Dr. Crane asked slowly "She thought you were the spirit of her dead Father?"

Erik hung his head. "Yes. I know it wasn't right to prey upon her innocence-" he smiled as if remembering, "but at first it was just to train her voice. She had the most stupendous voice I had ever known. It just had to be molded the right way. This was the only way." He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair in an agitated gesture. "I mean what was I supposed to do? Walk up and ask her? 'Christine can I teach you how to sing?' I the feared Phantom of the Opera? Ha, that never would have worked. She would have gone running before I got a word out. By being her Angel of Music she trusted me completely. She looked at me with adoration on her face- not fear or loathing."

Dr. Crane took off his glasses and softly asked "but it turned into something else for you didn't it? You began to feel for her other than as a teacher for his student."

"Yes."

"And that is when things got difficult, didn't it?"

"No. I have become accustomed to yearning for things I cannot have. I could have quite happily lived out my life loving her from afar. Things became difficult when that **boy** that Raoul DeChaney walked back into her life. That's when I decided to take her."

"You raped her?"

"I wouldn't harm a hair on her head Dr. Crane, and I will not have you think otherwise!" Erik balled his hands into fists in order to control the rage that swept through him.

Jonathan was mildly shocked. _Okay I won't touch that again. _"Of course not. How foolish of me."

Calming down Erik continued. "I **took** her down to my lair beneath the Opera House. It was earlier that evening when Raoul decided to congratulate Christine in her fine breakthrough performance in the opera Hanibal. I knew when he swept into her dressing room with his charm and good looks that she would stop being mine and become his. So, after he left I decided to give Christine what she had been pleading with me for months to have. Her Angel of Music. She had become bored with the notion that I was only a voice. She wanted to see me. To see how truly beautiful I was. How beautiful she perceived me to be. I don't know how much it was a shock it was to her to realize that her Angel was nothing more than a man. The only notion I got was when she called me 'strange Angel.'"

"Oh, and she went with you willingly?"

"Yes, she was in a trance at the time. My voice has been known to put people in a trance."

"Ah," he said while writing on the now four pages of notes 'voice can cause trance like state.' "And what did you do with her?"

"Sang to her. Sang to her about how nice the music of the night can be. How comfortable and safe darkness is. And then I showed her my intentions."

"How did you do that?"

"I showed Christine my life sized wax dummy of her... in a wedding gown," Erik finished in a mumble.

"I see." Dr. Crane quickly scrawled onto his notepad 'Patient has obsessive tendencies and strange ways of showing affection.' "What happened then?"

"She fainted. I think it was all too much for her. Or maybe her corset was too tight. I'm not sure. Anyhow the next morning I was restless. It was strange not only having another person in my lair, but having Christine sleeping a few feet away from where I slept was practically unbearable. So, I did what any normal person would do. I continued composing 'Don Juan Triumphant.' I was so deeply engrossed in my music that I didn't see that little nymph creep up behind me. She was curious. They always are curious of what is behind-" Erik paused gently caressing his mask. "This. This unfeeling scrap of clothing. I noticed her presence too late. She had already pulled my mask from my face and saw the horror that lay beneath. Forgive me Dr. I know that I should have shown more understanding, more patience with her. She had only wanted to see what her Angel looked like. I-I yelled at her Monsieur. I cursed her. I did everything short of striking her. I was so furious. I knew that when she saw my face, that she'd never be mine."

"Is your face so horrific Erik? Or is it just that your mind is projecting the worse upon your marred cheek?"

"I wasn't put up as a freak in a traveling Gypsy fair for nothing."

"Point taken. And what happened with Christine?"

"She ran off with her Viscount. Just as I knew she would."

"You didn't try to reason with her or talk to her after the incident?"

Erik thought momentarily. "No. I mostly left her alone for six months until I saw her again at the annual Masquerade Ball held at the Opera. It was then I presented my finished Don Juan to those foolish managers and told her that she 'belonged to me' while ripping her garish endangerment ring from around her throat." Erik paused, once again in deep thought. "Then I saw her again at the Paris cemetery. I tried to convince her that I was once again the spirit of her dead father."

"What made you do that?" Dr. Crane asked while writing 'Christine- his object of affection has definite father issues. Erik preys upon this continuously.'

"I wanted the relationship to go back to before she had seen me. It didn't work though. Raoul showed up and ruined everything as per usual."

Dr. Crane chuckled softly. "Young people do tend to do that."

"Yes, especially him." Erik growled and then relaxed as he recalled the next memory. "Then came the opening night. My triumph. You know I wrote it all for her."

"The opera?"

"Yes. It was all for her. Every note, every gesture was tailored just for her. "It was working too. She would have been mine. And yet something inside me provoked me to propose right then and there- on stage. I asked her if she would save me and lead me from my solitude. She did it again Dr. Crane. She ripped my mask off in front of the creme de la cream of Pairs. All of them got a look of at my face. But I had a plan in case something should go wrong. You see that idiot boy had convinced the management to arm the place with police. Like those inept fools would catch me- ha!"

'Patient has egotistical views.' Dr. Crane scribbled, now onto his second notepad. "What was your plan?"

Erik smiled but, it wasn't a warm welcoming one that Dr. Crane had displayed upon first meeting him. Erik's smile was cold and unfeeling. "To release the chandelier. Its fall would provide enough of a distraction for all present that I could make my escape if need be. Which I did. After Christine exposed me, I cut one of the main ropes of the chandelier that was attached to the set. While all of Paris was gaping at my...disfigurement they were unaware that the glittering mass was getting ready to fall on their empty heads and cease their inconsiderate starring. When they finally noticed their fate and mass chaos broke out I took the time to escape and take Christine with me. She didn't come willingly this time. I didn't have the time to 'condition' her to my presence like before.

I was so furious at this point that I didn't care if she came to hate me. We did exchange a few harsh words brought on by our flaming tempers. This time though while yelling at her I felt no remorse, no regret. The first time she pried the mask from my face it was out of innocent child-like curiosity. But this time she did it knowingly. I think that's what made me snap. Before the Viscount showed up yet again I had planed on asking her one last time to marry me. My plan changed when I saw him again knee deep in water looking like a half drowned rat. I decided to force her to choose. Either way I would win, you see."

"How is that?"

"I gave her the choice of marrying me and I let him go or I just simply do away with the bastard."

"By knife?"

"By Punjab Lasso. That lasso has struck fear into the hearts of many Dr. and I had it poised to make Christine mine either way. But of course, like that fool boy she had to ruin it. She broke through my anger at the world- at everybody by kissing me. By kissing ME. Do you know that I've never had anyone kiss me before? Nobody has given a shit on my well being because of this face." He finished in a hiss and paused with his head down to recompose himself.. "With that kiss I knew deep down inside that she loved her poor Erik. I had to let them go after that. And of course with the falling of the chandelier, and major destruction to the Opera House an angry mob formed to hunt me down. Oh, and the murders too." Erik said as almost an afterthought.

"What did you do after you let them go?"

"I escaped and hid for a while to let things settle down then I salvaged what was left of my home- you see, the mob saw fit to destroy it since they couldn't find me- and lived my life peacefully until I found myself here."

Dr. Crane sat back in his chair. He didn't realize that he was on the edge of his seat furiously taking notes until Erik finished his story. _He doesn't seem to be the insane killer I was hoping to get for my studies. Just a lovesick fool with obsessiveness and an insecurity about his face, _he to a conclusion, Dr. Crane got up and walked over to a small cherry wood cabinet withdrawing a leather bound briefcase. Sitting back down in his chair, Dr. Crane placed the briefcase on the floor between himself and Erik. Reaching over to his desk he withdrew an object that closely resembled a beat up burlap sack. Turning around to face Erik again, with that same kind smile on his face he asked "would you like to see my mask, Erik?"

Erik, seeing a dangerous glint in Dr. Cranes' eyes, leant forward just a bit and stuck his hand inside his cape. "Would you like to see my lasso, Monsieur?"


End file.
